


Is This (What Love Feels Like?)

by crescentmoonthemage



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Poe Dameron/Finn Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentmoonthemage/pseuds/crescentmoonthemage
Summary: After his first true heartbreak, one of Poe’s Republic friends tells Poe that he pines more prettily than anyone he’s ever seen.Poe laughs and says, of course. I do everything more prettily than anyone you’ve ever seen.TLJ SPOILERS





	Is This (What Love Feels Like?)

**Author's Note:**

> stormpilot gives me all the feels

Afterward. After the Cruiser, after Crait, after Poe went through the emotional roller-coaster of _, Finn’s dead, Finn’s dead, Finn’s dead,_ not once, but twice. Towards the beginning of Afterward, Poe watches. People hum through the Falcon for the first hours of flight, people ask him how he’s doing. He gives them a smile, one he’s perfected faking after too many losses turned his iron to steel, and tells them he’s just happy that the Resistance is surviving. Some of them ask _are you okay,_ and then he yanks out a second (better but still fake) smile, a tired but wide grin. _Of course,_ he tells them. _I’m a bit rough around the edges, but who isn’t?_ (He’s rough around the edges, yes, but there’s also grief and jealousy and the bone-deep exhaustion of being awake for more than sixty hours straight settling their way into his bones and carving a hole between his ribs until his chest aches. Is he fine? He hopes so, but he thinks not.)

Towards the beginning, he watches. He watches the remaining Resistance members buzz about, hug survivors, smile raggedly, and, eventually, settle off to sleep. There are not enough bunks on the Falcon, so they sprawl where they can, using coats as blankets and arms as pillows, they lean on walls, viewpoints, each other. There are only about two dozen of them. He is directly responsible for the fact that they are missing (by his count) twelve A-wing pilots, three X-Wing pilots ( _Jess, Snap, Wex,_ his brain says to him, over and over), and fifteen bomber pilots.

Towards the beginning, he watches. He watches Rey vanish into the cockpit and hears Chewbacca’s grunt. He watches General Leia, sitting alone beside a transparisteel viewpoint. To a casual observer, she looks serene. Calm. But Poe has dealt with pain (and most importantly, how to keep it hidden) for too much of his life. He watches people come to her, asking after her wellbeing. “I’m fine,” she tells them, each and every one. “Spare your worries for our injured, our grieving. (Poe notes that she is a convincing liar, but a liar nonetheless.) He watches the members of the ragged Resistance settling off to sleep, until there are five awake. Himself. Rey and Chewie, in the cockpit. Leia, the _I’m fine, spare your worries_ mask unbreakable.

And then there is Finn.

He watches Finn most of all, watches his back, _he lost that jacket,_ he thinks, glumly. He watches the way Finn watches Rose, always adjusting her blanket or checking her temperature. He watches Rose’s even breathing, her pallid skin. He hopes she will recover. He hopes this very much, because he hopes that Finn will be happy. His fingers drift to the ring he wears under his shirt, dancing over the shape of the metal. _Mother,_ he thinks. He almost asks _would you be proud?_ before realizing that Shara Bey, even while dead, knows him well enough to cuff him over the ear and say _ask the question you really want to ask, Poe._

So he fingers the ring, and instead thinks _Will I ever find the right person, or will this ring stay with me for the rest of my life?_ He doesn’t know kriff-damn how the Force works, but he’s heard of Jedi “projecting their feelings” or some shit, and he knows that he’s got enough self-pity to fill the whole of the Falcon. So, he projects as best he can, and continues to watch Finn.

Eventually, General Leia comes over to him and tells him to get some sleep, but it’s not in her Patented General Leia Command Voice, it’s in her Maybe Poe’s Surrogate Mother voice, the one he can never refuse. So, he puts his jacket onto the table, lays his head on it, and falls into a dreamless slumber.

\----

They are flying to Bespin, Leia tells him and the other command of the Resistance the next day, after Poe has awoken from almost nine hours of uncomfortable sleep. (Command is a relative term, and in this case, Poe thinks, almost laughable, as there are only twenty of them left and all of the true command was floating out in the middle of space debris.) Command involves him (Leia reinstates his rank as Commander, to his great relief), Lieutenant Connix, Commander D’Acy, Rey, and Finn. “I have an old friend there who might be able to help us,” Leia tells them. Poe thinks _Bespin,_ racks his memory for knowledge of the planet. Finally, his brain turns up a story, one of carbonite, back when General Leia was still Princess Leia. “Lando Calrissian,” he breathes, and Leia gives him a nod.

“According to Rey and Chewbacca, we should be there within four hours. From there, we will regroup and recover for a few days while I attempt to contact our remaining allies.”

Leia dismisses them and Poe begins to walk away without direction until he’s stopped with a hand on his shoulder. “Poe,” says Finn. “Can I talk to you?”

Poe nods. “Of course, buddy, what’s up?”

They sit in a quiet corner of the Falcon, away from prying eyes. Finn looks nervous, unfolding and refolding his hands in his lap. Poe wonders the question he’s obviously thinking of asking. Finally, he asks it. “What do you do if someone kisses you?”

Poe’s heart skips three beats but then hammers to life again in his chest. “Did… did someone kiss you?” he finally gets out.

Finn nods. “Rose did. Before she fell unconscious. She told me that the way to win a way wasn’t fighting what you hate, that it was saving what you love.”

Poe swallows, blinking. “So she loves you.”

Finn shrugs. “If I knew how this worked, I wouldn’t be asking you.” He gives Poe a helpless smile.

Inwardly, Poe dies, just a little bit. He sighs, just a tiny bit, struggling to keep his face carefully neutral. “Well,” he says, after a long moment. “Do you want to kiss her again?”

Finn thinks about this for a moment. “To be honest, I don’t really know what love is, or how to love. Any sort of emotion that wasn’t obedience was forbidden to us.”

Not for the first time, Poe thinks of Phasma and Hux, the ones that created the Troopers, the ones that wiped them clean, and not for the first time, he wants to crush every bone in their bodies.

Finn continues. “I don’t know if the love I feel for her is the kind of love that makes you want to kiss someone.” He pauses, waiting for Poe to speak. When Poe doesn’t, he continues. “It’s the same kind of love I feel for Rey. I love her, because _of course_ I love her. But I don’t really want to kiss her, or sleep beside her. I want to smile at her and joke with her and hug her, even. And I want her to be happy. But whenever I imagine myself kissing someone I don’t imagine myself kissing her.”

Poe almost says, _who do you imagine kissing?_ He certainly thinks it. But Poe Dameron has never had a good grip on when to keep his thoughts in his own mind (it’s one of the reasons that makes him such a good “trigger-happy flyboy” as Holdo so eloquently put it, he realizes). So he thinks _who do you imagine kissing?_ and a moment later he’s saying it and hoping the question doesn’t sound as salacious as it does in his own mind.

Finn doesn’t reply immediately, and when he glances at Poe’s lips and back to his face, Poe’s sure he’s imagining it. (His hammering heart would like to think otherwise, however.) Surely, if Poe wasn’t, in fact, imagining such a thing, Finn would have liked the motion to go unnoticed. Perhaps he didn’t notice that he himself was doing it.

(What Finn doesn’t realize about Poe is that Poe notices more than many give him credit for.)

            Finn doesn’t reply, either way, and the conversation goes stale. “Sorry,” says Poe, automatically. “Didn’t mean to offend, buddy.” It is only then that he notices how close they are to each other, sitting beside one another, shoulders pressed together, heads turned towards each other. In fact, Poe notices, they are pressed together from shoulder to thigh, faces inches from touching.

            (For a keen observer, Poe notices little.)

            Finn pulls back, an inch, until they are no longer touching. It is only then that Poe feels the loss of him, only then does he realize that the gaping hole in his chest is bigger than he realized, and that the side of him that is no longer touching Finn feels cold. He pulls back too, so they’re even, and now they’re just staring at each other. Sitting in an empty hallway, staring at each other. Poe’s heart aches.

            (After his first true heartbreak, one of Poe’s Republic friends tells Poe that he pines more prettily than anyone he’s ever seen.)

            (Poe laughs and says, _of course. I do everything more prettily than anyone you’ve ever seen.)_

            He’s not sure which of them stands first until they’re both standing, and looking at each other, until Poe says “ _Buddy,”_ a tone too loudly, too desperate,

(and apparently this is a silent cue for Finn to say: “I’d better check on Rose,” before walking away.)

Poe’s not sure why he feels empty, only that he does.

 

They land at a docking bay on Cloud City, and as they disembark a man Poe recognizes as Lando Calrissian runs out to embrace Leia. “Princess,” he says. “Old friend. I’m sorry to hear about everything.” He and the General share a word, before he extends his arm to the inside. “You and your people are welcome here as long as you need. All the hospitality of Cloud City is yours, little as it is.”

Leia assigns rooms, quick as can be, and sends them all off with orders to rest up and eat. “I’ll send for you when I’m ready,” she says. “For now, recover.”

Then, Lando interrupts to tell them that there’s no schedule for meals, “just get the cooks off their lazy bums and they’ll make you something.” He gives them a laugh, and Poe thinks _I can see why Han Solo liked you._

Sector B, Room 76 is fairly large and unassuming. Poe thinks nothing of why there might be two beds, simply takes his jacket off and flops onto the larger one of them, falling into deep sleep without another thought. When he wakes, moonlight is streaming through the room’s sole window. He takes a cursory glance at the other bed and is surprised to find Finn there, sleeping on his stomach. Poe takes a second too long to stare at him, the simple unadorned beauty of him, the clean lines and even breathing. His gentle jaw, the curve of his nose and his elegant browbone, if Poe was an artist he would never look any further for inspiration.

He isn’t an artist, though, he’s a pilot, and he’s in love with his best friend, a man of simple, unadorned beauties, and one he can never have.

_You pine so prettily,_ Skapes had said, all those years ago.

He wonders, idly, if all of Lando’s promised hospitalities extends to bringing handsome men (with dark skin and laughing eyes and shy smiles) to bed. He laughs sadly to himself. That’s not, after all, something you can ask your host.

            The next few days are spent sleeping, eating, learning how to laugh again. Poe sees Leia only once. From what he’s heard, she’s been spending her days in confidential meetings, futile attempts to contact allies. Rose wakes and is tended to by Cloud City’s healers. Finn, who Leia assigned to share a room with (that damn woman knows too much for her own good, Poe suspects), brings him the news with a bright smile on his face. Poe grins, because he _is_ happy. He’s especially happy that Finn doesn’t want to kiss her. He tells Poe this much as well, as they lay on their separate beds on the fourth night. Poe’s pointedly looking at the ceiling, pointedly not looking at Finn, because he knows after three nights of waking up after nightmares just how the moonlight from the window kisses Finn’s skin. “I’ve been thinking about it, talking about it with Rey. I really don’t love her in that way.”

            “Have you told her?” Poe asks.

            Finn shakes his head. “I was going to after she was recovered. It’s not something I want to spring on her.”

            Poe nods. “I understand. Love is a dangerous thing.”

            Finn raises a curious eyebrow. “How much do you know about love, Poe?” he asks. He doesn’t sound suspicious (for which Poe is eternally grateful), but simply curious. Poe has to remind himself that this man knows nothing about matters of the heart.

            “That’s a loaded question, Finn,” he answers, grinning. “What do you mean?”

            Finn considers. “Have you ever loved someone?”

            “Yes,” Poe says, simply.

            “More than one person?” asks Finn.

            Poe chuckles. “At a time? Woah, buddy, slow down!” he laughs, sarcastically, then answers, again, “Yes.”

            Finn is silent for a moment. Poe hears the covers on Finn’s bed shift as he moves and aches with the desire to turn and look at him, to see the stars paint patterns on his forehead. “What does it feel like?” Finn finally asks.

            Poe thinks for a moment. _It feels like fire and sunlight and the world ending, it feels like a crack in the middle of your heart and a smile threatening to rip your face in half._ “It’s terrifying,” he says, honestly. “Especially in a war like this. Never knowing whether you’ll ever see them again, never knowing whether the glance you shared with them would be your last. It’s maddening, and terrifying, and wonderful. You feel full, like you finally have a home.”

            Finally, finally, Poe turns, rolling onto his side to face Finn. Finn’s dark eyes are already fixed on him. He’s chewing on his words, Poe can tell. He asks, a moment later: “You talked about love ‘in a war like this.’” Slowly, he murmurs, nearly a whisper: “Do you love someone right now?” There’s traces of desperation, longing, in his tone (so little that Poe’s sure he’s imagining them).

            Poe smiles a small smile. “Ask me again tomorrow after we both wake up sweat-soaked from our respective nightmares. I’ll be brave enough ( _or stupid enough,_ he thinks) to give you an honest answer.”

            Finn sits up. “Is it Rey?” he asks.

            Poe starts. “What? No, of course it’s not Rey! I’ve known her for like four days!”

            Finn ponders. “Rose, then. It must be Rose.”

            “Hey, pal,” Poe says, putting on a grin for show. “I never told you I even loved anybody.”

            Finn looks at him, as if studying his features. “That’s the tone you use when you tell half-truths. It’s the first I’ve ever heard you use it on me.”

            Poe smiles. “Well, Finn, you’re too special to me. I can always tell you the full truth.”

            “But not about this?” Finn asks.

            Poe chuckles a little. “Finn, my friend,” he says, deftly stepping around the question. “You’ve got a lot to learn about love.”

 

            As it turns out, Finn doesn’t get to ask him the next night. Poe and the other remaining pilots find out that Lando’s “hospitality” extends to Corellian rum, so they get completely and utterly slammed. Then, Poe does something rash and stupid and impulsive and seeks out the cute weapons tech working for Lando who’d been making eyes at him across the mess hall all day. _It’s not a rebound,_ he tells himself, _it’s not a rebound._

            (It’s a rebound, of course.)

 

            Finally, two nights later, Poe’s readying himself for bed when Finn walks in. Poe swears to himself that it hadn’t been his intention to avoid Finn all day, but then Rose had started walking again and Finn had been caught up with her and Poe had been caught up in his daily routine of moping after a certain cute boy he could never have (and dealing with a massive hangover).

            Finn opens the door, sets his bag down, and it’s only then that Poe realizes that Rey is there as well. She stares at him for an instant. “You’re a kriffing idiot,” she says, with a trace of fondness—although most of the fondness is veiled by protective anger. “I’m Force locking this door until the two of you talk like adults.”

            With that, she is gone, and the door shuts behind her. Poe raises an eyebrow. “What was that about?” he asks, although he’s sure he already knows.

            Finn sits on his bed. “Fuck, Poe,” he says, and Poe realizes that his voice sounds sad, realizes exactly why, and then realizes that he’s gone and managed to cock up everything. “ You know, that guy you slept with is bragging.” His voice is ripe with jealousy, but when Poe looks at him, his eyes are sad. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

            Poe’s surprised at how choked up his voice sounds when he speaks. “I waited by your bed for weeks. Then you woke up and the first thing you did was sneak onto a _Star Destroyer,_ and fuck, Finn, I was sure I’d lost you again. Then I thought you were in love with not one but two wonderful people, certainly not as wonderful as I. Then I realized that even though you didn’t love them, you’d certainly never love me. My candle burns half as bright as yours—what am I to you?”

“I’m an idiot,” Poe says. “And I know it. And I’m sorry.”

            Finn looks shocked. “What are you to me? What are you-” he stops. “Poe, you gave me my name, you gave me a jacket, you gave me a home and a place in the galaxy and a purpose. How could I not love you?” He is quiet.

            “Fuck, Finn,” Poe says, and then he’s taking a step forward and so is Finn and their mouths are meeting, there, under the moonlight from the window, in the afterward. They only break away because Poe’s gasping for breath and Finn’s grinning. “I’m an idiot, but I love you,” says Poe. “I love you so fucking much it hurts.”

            “I love you too,” Finn smiles. “The kind of love that makes you want to kiss someone.

            Poe grins, but his eyes say, _I’m sorry._  “Is that an invitation?” he asks.

            Finn grins back, but his eyes say, _I forgive you._ “Maybe,” he admits.

           

            (“Is this what love feels like?” Finn asks, later.)

 

            (Poe replies. “Yeah, buddy, I think it is.”)


End file.
